


October Chill

by DictionaryWrites



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2013-11-07
Packaged: 2017-12-31 18:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1034761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DictionaryWrites/pseuds/DictionaryWrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras soaks himself in the river, and he and Joly need to be thoroughly warmed up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	October Chill

Enjolras’ teeth were chattering as he climbed up and out of the water, half cradling Joly as he held the younger man close to him. Bossuet took Joly from Enjolras’ arms to his own, feeling his forehead and quickly stripping his shirt away so he could put his own jacket around the smaller man.

Bossuet had never been able to swim. It had never come up, given that where he’d grown up there’d been a shallow stream and only that, and now he was a little too old to learn. When Joly had stumbled and tripped as they’d walked by the riverside, in the back of his mind Bossuet had cursed his bad luck.

In the front, he had panicked, but Enjolras had already thrown his coat on the ground and dived into the water without a single thought, the river water soaking into expensive leather boots as he grabbed Joly’s hand and pulled him close before swimming back to the bank. The river’s flow wasn’t too powerful, not at this point, but it was deep and Joly had panicked, going still and falling under the surface without knowing what to do.

Now, Enjolras was shaking too, thick, blond hair sticking to his head and to his shoulders, water dripping off him. Feuilly had cursed, pushing past Courfeyrac’s fussing in order to rapidly pull Enjolras’ wet shirt away from his skin, removing his own coat and putting it around Enjolras’ shoulders. _  
_

"Put it on." He said grimly as he dipped to pick Enjolras’ off the grass, but the blond protested.

"I can wear my own c-c-clothes-" The chatter of Enjolras’ teeth was audible and painful to Feuilly’s ears, and he made a face as he realized how much Enjolras was shaking. 

"No, you can’t, not when I’m holding your Goddamn coat. It might be fashionable, Enjolras, but it’s not going to keep you warm: put my coat on." Feuilly growled the words, and Enjolras shot him a sharp, defiant look, but put his arms in the coat and buttoned it up all the same. 

Feuilly put Enjolras’ coat over his own shoulders. He was a broader man than Enjolras, and couldn’t hope to put his arms in the sleeves even if he wanted to, but it was easier to hang the coat from his shoulders if he was going to keep a good hold of the younger man. 

Enjolras was stumbling as they moved, and Feuilly glanced to Bossuet, who had lifted Joly, bridal style, from the ground, and was easily carrying him. The artisan affected Enjolras with an appraising look, but Enjolras caught the other’s intention. 

"Don’t you  _da_ \- Feuilly, put me  _ **down**_!” Enjolras protested, wriggling in Feuilly’s arms and letting out loud noises. 

"I will do no such thing." Courfeyrac was running between Feuilly and Bossuet, looking concernedly at both of his wetter friends. The October chill was sharp and biting, and neither of them looked anything like comfortable. 

"Are they gonna be okay? Should I call Combeferre to meet us at the Musain?"

"Our apartment is closer than the Musain, and these two need to be dried and warmed up." Feuilly said, shaking his head. Joly was breathing fast, and Bossuet was quietly murmuring to him that he was alright, that he was not going to die, and that he was safe. Joly continued to shake, his body stiff, but he nodded all the same, almost wheezing.

Feuilly shouldered his door open without dropping Enjolras, and as soon as the door closed behind them he got Enjolras to strip off, draping him in a towel and handing another to Joly. Enjolras’ hands were red and stiff with cold, and Feuilly pressed a kiss to the smaller man’s knuckles. 

"No, Combeferre, they’re not bleeding or anything but Joly fell in and then Enjolras jumped in after him and Feuilly says they just need to be dried and warmed up except-" Courfeyrac was quiet, but he looked distressed all the same. "Are you sure? Because he doesn’t  _look_  very good and I don’t want- Yes. Yes, okay.”

Feuilly brought a set of Enjolras’ mostly unworn pyjamas down for Joly to wear, and though the medical student took no share of Enjolras’ long yet graceful limbs, they were  _something_. Feuilly bundled Enjolras in a loose shirt of Feuilly’s, and Enjolras couldn’t help but cling to the other despite himself once Feuilly had both of them in blankets.

"Enjolras, I need to go and make you something to eat-"

"I can do that." Courfeyrac said sharply, even as Enjolras gave a soft, wordless protest. Enjolras wouldn’t usually get touchy-feely in front of other people, but now he was reluctant to let go of Feuilly, for his warmth and for his comfort. Even as he spoke, Courfeyrac brought in cups of cocoa and tea, and even though Joly’s hands were shaking so badly he could barely grasp the mug, he drank greedily when Bossuet held it to his lips.

"G-G-God, I hate winter." Joly muttered, and Bossuet pressed a kiss to his forehead. 

"Me and Musichetta will keep you warm tonight."

"I-it might get worse, I might contract-"

"In which case Musichetta and I will stay by your bedside until you are healthy." Bossuet interrupted Joly, not unkindly, and the medical student gave a stuttered nod. 

Feuilly kept a towel in Enjolras’ hair, drying it carefully in order to ensure no cold drip soaked its way down the other man’s back. 

"S-Sorry I fell in, Enjolras. It was stupid of me, I shouldn’t have-"

"The bank was loose, Jolllly, it wasn’t your fault." Enjolras put the emphasis on his name that was usually left to the other amis, and Joly’s face lit up, if only by a fractional amount. "Really, it’s okay."

"Thank you." Joly murmured, and Enjolras nodded. Bossuet pulled out his phone to text Musichetta, and Enjolras pressed back against Feuilly, his ear pressed securely to the other man’s chest. 

"How’re you feeling?"

"My feet and my hands hurt a little." Enjolras admitted, and Feuilly nodded. 

"S’to be expected. Give it another hour or so. By then, Combeferre will be here to motherhen you." Enjolras grinned a little, and Courfeyrac came in, setting a bacon sandwich in front of Enjolras and some egg and toast in front of Joly. It was simple food, but it was hot and quickly prepared, and Courfeyrac looked between his two friends with obvious concern.

"We’re alright, Courf." Enjolras murmured before biting into the sandwich, and Courfeyrac nodded, but continued to pace and shift the position of his hands.

Combeferre was there within a few more minutes, and he pronounced both Enjolras and Joly to be looking fine, given ten more minutes to warm, before pulling Courfeyrac close and murmuring something comforting in his ear.

Feuilly noticed that, even despite his worry for his friends, Courfeyrac was enough himself to grab Combeferre’s ass as he did so, which inspired Feuilly not to worry so thoroughly. Enjolras was snoring before Combeferre had gone, and that, to Feuilly, was most comforting of all.

If Enjolras could sleep, he was fine, and if Enjolras was fine, so was Feuilly.


End file.
